


A Kinky Little Sex Game Thing

by ifitwasribald



Series: Steve Rogers Never Was a Boy Scout [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Clint joins the fun, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Rough Sex, Threesome, mild objectification, sharing is caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitwasribald/pseuds/ifitwasribald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little more shameless smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kinky Little Sex Game Thing

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, I don't even know anymore.

“So, Barton,” Tony clapped Clint on the back and settled onto a barstool next to him. “Got a question for you. Do you fuck men?”

Clint made a remarkably comical face and struggled to swallow a mouthful of beer.

"For fun, I mean,” Tony clarified when an answer didn’t seem to be forthcoming. “I don't need to know what you do in your professional life."

Clint snorted at that, and examined Tony’s face. “Is this— Is this some kinky little sex game thing? You and Cap have a bet or something?”

“I don’t think you get to point fingers about betting on people’s sex lives. And no. To the second question.” He paused, and then admitted, “yes to the first question.”

“It is a kinky sex game?”

“Well,” Tony gestured at the two of them, “this isn’t. But I’m, uh, inviting you to one. Actually.”

Clint didn’t answer immediately, but he hadn’t left, or laughed in Tony’s face, or hauled off and punched him, so that was something. Realistically, that last one was very low probability—Tony hadn’t managed to figure out if Clint liked dick, but he was pretty sure the guy wasn’t the queer panic type.

“So, do you?” Tony persisted, “like to fuck men?”

“I, uh,” Clint began, before apparently settling on simplicity. “Yes.”

The directness of the answer went straight to Tony’s groin. As if he weren’t hard just from asking the question. “OK. Well, that was what I was hoping for. And to move from the general to the specific, if we were to invite you to a... uh... kinky sex game?”

Tony watched Clint’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Kind of depends on the type of kinky.”

A grin spread across Tony’s face. Unless he was very much mistaken, that was going to be a yes in short order. “The kind that involves you fucking me. And probably also Steve fucking me, though we can be flexible about whether you’re there for that part.”

Clint’s eyes raked up and down Tony’s body. “And? There is an ‘and,’ right, ‘cause I can’t imagine a guy like you considers a threesome kinky.”

Tony glanced around the bar. The place was noisy enough that he was confident that their conversation couldn’t be heard, but you could never rule out lip readers. Still and all, this was worlds away from being the most embarrassing thing he’d ever said in public, and truth to tell the small risk only made him harder. “Steve calls the shots. For me.”

Tony watches as Clint processes that. “Like… he tells me how I get to fuck you?”

“Right.”

“And watches me fuck you?”

“Right.”

“Because you’re… his sub,” Clint deduced. By the sound of it, he liked the idea more than a little.

Tony felt his face flush. He was _a_ sub, sure. He had no interest in denying what got his rocks off, felt no shame or embarrassment about his particular predilections. But he’d never before heard himself described as _someone’s_ sub in particular, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he liked it. Accurate though Clint’s conclusion might be, hearing it said out loud and in public brought a warm flush of humiliation to his face. But in spite of that, or maybe because of it, it also stirred something hot and tight inside him. “More or less,” he confirmed.

“Fuck,” Clint muttered, with feeling. “Uh, yes. Where do I sign up?”

“How does right here work for you?”

“Right here… in the bar?”

“In the back.”

“Right now?”

“If you’re up for it.” Tony couldn’t help but cast a quick glance at Clint’s groin, which confirmed that, at least in the most literal sense, he was.

“Yeah.”

Tony turned and gestured to Steve. “My safeword is cantaloupe,” he noted to Clint, almost absently, “and I’ve got an alert mechanism for when I can’t talk. You won’t miss it.”

Clint nodded at that as if he were well accustomed to multi-modal safewords, and Tony filed that away.

Steve crossed the bar to stand just behind them, and Tony felt Steve’s fingers ghost over his neck in an idle gesture that made Tony shiver.

“I’d, uh,” Steve’s tone started out bashful, a little awkward at the idea of what they had planned, but then he managed to force it into a casual rhythm, like he was merely suggesting a particularly good beer. “I’d recommend starting by fucking his throat,” he murmured, just loud enough for the words to reach Tony’s ears, and Clint’s. “It’s incredibly tight, and when he swallows—“

“In the back, you said?” Clint asks, a harsh note of impatience creeping into his voice.

Steve grinned and hooked a finger in Tony’s belt and pulled him upright, tugging him through the bar towards the back. The gesture was low enough, and small enough, that no one who wasn’t looking for it would have noticed, but it made Tony’s breath catch anyway.

When they reached an unobtrusive door at the rear of the bar, Steve pulled out a key and unlocked it, turning to make sure the lock was reengaged after the three of them passed through.

The stairwell was more or less what Tony expected—grim and industrial, with concrete floors and metal railings along the edge of the landing and at the sides of the stairs. Clint glanced around, and by his expression, it wasn’t what he was expecting. The uncertain look disappeared when Steve’s fingers laced in Tony’s hair and shoved him down, and when Clint’s eyes fixed firmly on Tony they held a hunger that made Tony’s cock strain against his pants.

"There's just something about Tony Stark on his knees, don't you think?"

Clint nodded his agreement. "Yeah," he breathed. 

Steve ran a thumb over Tony’s cheek and dipped it between his lips, and Clint stared.

“This… this is… not how I pictured my night going.”

Steve’s expression turned serious. “If you don’t want to—“

“Uh, no, I want to. I’m just… acclimating to the whole…” Clint gestured. “What is this, anyway? Why do you have the key to the stairwell?”

Steve’s lips quirked. "He rented it."

"He… rented a stairwell? How do you rent a stairwell?"

Tony thought about responding, but the casual way Clint and Steve were talking—about him but not to him—produced a frisson of anticipation, and he found he didn’t want to disrupt them.

"If you're Tony, I think by waving ridiculous amounts of money in front of whoever owns the building."

"OK, yeah, that would work." Clint’s eyes returned to Tony, looking him up and down. “So I can really—“

“Fuck his mouth? Yeah. Or his ass, he likes it either way. Hell, he begs for it either way.” Tony heard the rustle of Steve shifting behind him, and felt strong hands roughly jerk his arms back and together. Cool metal snapped around each wrist and held them together, and Steve pressed the little ball that served as a safety signal into one palm.

“Look how much he’s loving this already.” Steve continued, reaching around to unfasten Tony’s pants with a sharp motion. Tony sucked in a breath as Steve reached in to grab his dick, shifting it so that it jutted out obscenely.

Clint made a sound at that, and Tony had a feeling that he could hear in that sound the crumbling of all Clint’s remaining reservations. 

Clint took a step toward Tony and threaded his fingers through Tony’s hair, and then, with a long, slightly unsteady breath, undid his own pants and pulled himself out.

Tony licked his lips and grinned up at Clint. “Do it, Barton.”

Clint glanced at Steve over Tony’s head. “That didn’t sound like begging,” he noted, tightening the hand in Tony’s hair until the sharp bite of pain made him gasp.

“Please,” Tony managed, and meant it.

Apparently it was good enough for Clint, or maybe he simply ran out of patience, because he leaned forward, pushing the head of his cock between Tony’s lips. Tight pain shivered over Tony’s scalp as Clint used his grip to keep Tony’s head in place while he thrust.

Really the only option left to Tony was to open his throat as wide as he could, and he was rewarded by Clint’s whole length filling him up.

Clint gave a low growl. “Shit. Fuck. Goddamn, his throat is made for fucking.”

Tony moaned. Clint’s dick penetrated deep enough to cut off his airway, but Tony didn’t yet need to suck in another breath, so he could revel instead in the sensation of being invaded, filled, used. Tony’s cock twitched and strained against the empty air.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agreed with feeling, and Tony wondered if he had his dick in hand yet. From the sound of his voice he certainly wanted to.

Clint pulled back and thrust in again and again in a series of short strokes that didn’t take full advantage of Tony’s deepthroating abilities, but which were clearly working for Clint, who let out a harsh groan. “Goddamn.”

Tony could feel Steve move closer behind him, and suddenly Steve’s hand dropped to circle around Tony’s throat. Clint gave a little grunt of surprise and then tightened his hold on Tony’s hair and returned to long, deep strokes. 

Tony realized then why Steve had his hand there—he wanted to _feel_ Clint fucking his throat. Holy fucking Christ. Tony moaned wildly around Clint’s cock, fruitlessly thrusting his hips in his need. Hot breath ghosted past his ear. “Do you have any idea how filthy you look right now? How desperate? How hard it is not to rip your pants off and fuck you right now?” Tony’s moan became a whine, and Clint swore again. 

The motion of Clint’s thrusts faltered, stuttered, but when he spoke it was still to Steve. “Gonna shoot— Oh God— down his— throat,” he warned, and apparently received no objection from Steve. Certainly Tony wasn’t about to offer one himself. Clint’s hips jerked, and Tony pressed his lips tighter around Clint’s dick and sucked. “Fuck, _fuck_ he’s— Oh God. _Fuck._ ” 

Steve’s hand disappeared as Clint throbbed inside Tony’s throat. Tony swallowed desperately around it, wringing soft curses from Clint’s mouth as he spent himself.

Clint finally released his grip on Tony’s hair and withdrew. “Goddamn.” He looked up, still addressing Steve and more or less ignoring Tony. “Fuck, thanks. That was— damn.”

Tony’d had a feeling Clint would be good at this game—that was why they approached him in the first place—but he really hadn’t realized that he’d be _this_ good. The casual tone, impressed and satisfied but somehow still dismissive, hit all the right buttons in Tony’s brain and he felt a tiny little whimper of need rise from his throat.

He glanced back at Steve, whose cock remained tucked inside his pants, clearly visible and straining against the fabric. “More?” he invited, loving the sound of his own voice in his ears—hoarse and rough and almost embarrassingly desperate.

Steve met his eyes and groaned, but when he spoke it was to Clint. “He’s insatiable. Sometimes I think I should just invite the whole bar to fuck him. He’s such a…“ Steve trailed off like he couldn’t find a word filthy enough to describe Tony, and Tony felt a delicious little shiver run through him.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘cockslut.’”

“That sounds about right,” Steve agreed, absently rubbing a thumb over his belt buckle.

“Do you mind if I watch—?” Clint gestured at Steve and Tony both.

“Sure,” Steve agreed easily. “Maybe try out his ass after.”

Tony watched Clint swallow hard at that, and he shivered a little in anticipation. 

But his eyes quickly fixed on Steve’s hand, which made short work of his belt buckle and pulled out his dick. Tony licked his lips and let his mouth fall slightly open in invitation, looking up at Steve through his lashes.

Steve groaned and then moved like lightening, shoving his cock into Tony’s mouth and down his throat in one sharp motion. Tony wasn’t ready for it, and felt himself gag. He struggled back, but Steve just grabbed his head and held it tight. 

Tony’s vision had started to swim a little around the edges by the time Steve drew back enough to allow him to suck in a breath through his nose. The instant he had, Steve thrust again.

When they’d agreed to this, to inviting someone else into their—well, not bed, and not relationship, but into whatever this was that they were doing—Tony assumed that Steve would hold back, would be a little domineering, a little forceful, but ultimately wouldn’t take him as brutally as he loved to do when they were alone.

Tony had rarely been so pleased to be wrong.

Just as he almost got comfortable with the rhythm Steve was fucking into his throat, Steve shifted, taking one step forward. The motion forced Tony to bend backwards into a precarious position, held up mostly by Steve’s hand in his hair and another on his shoulder. Tony whimpered and moaned, giving up on holding himself upright and letting his whole body fall entirely under Steve’s power. 

Steve moaned. “Fuck, goddamnit Tony, fuck. Take it. Just like that.” His hips started to buck faster and his grip tightened in Tony’s hair just the way Tony loved it, sending a little bite of pain from his scalp all down his spine. “Oh yeah, take it, take it, take it, fuck,” Steve muttered, thrusting wildly, as Tony did everything he could to keep himself open.

A couple more thrusts and he was coming, still thrusting in and out. Tony tried to swallow around him, but the motion made it awkward, and by the time Steve pulled out, his come dribbled down Tony’s chin.

Steve took a couple of deep breaths, staring down at Tony with lidded eyes. He brought one thumb to wipe a trail of spit and ejaculate off Tony’s face, and Tony eagerly captured it between his lips and sucked.

Steve chuckled, and looked up at Clint. “Look at him. Just begging to be fucked.”

Tony whined at that, eager to make clear that he would in fact be more than happy to do whatever was necessary to get well and truly fucked as soon as was humanly possible.

Steve hauled him up to his feet and shoved him against the railing, bending him over it so that his head and shoulders hung over the empty air and the stairs descending into the basement. Steve’s hands made short work of his pants, and in a matter of moments he was naked from the waist down, ass in the air, wrists still bound behind his back, and head hanging over a ten foot drop. His center of gravity remained on the right side of the railing, but not by much.

“What’d’ya think?” Steve asked casually, and Tony knew the question wasn’t for him. 

There was a brief pause. “If he comes like that, it’s going to get everywhere,” Clint remarked thoughtfully.

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of that. I guess he’d better not then.”

Tony felt a whine forming in the back of his throat. “Do you have any idea how much I’m paying for this place? The guy can get the whole building sterilized a dozen times over and still come out ahead.”

“Don’t care,” Steve told him, giving his ass a little smack. “You make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Tony whined again. “Will someone please just fuck me?”

Steve gave a throaty little chuckle, and Tony heard a little rustling noise and then the soft snick of a cap opening. Then Steve’s hand closed in his hair, holding him down, while one slick finger slid down the cleft of his ass to his opening.

Tony wondered for a moment whose finger it was, but by the time it slipped inside, smooth and careful, he knew it wasn’t Steve’s.

Clint opened him up quickly, efficiently, providing a delicious stretching sensation but little else. When Tony whined and begged, it was for more, for the fucking that he knew was coming, knew must be coming. But then Clint’s fingers shifted, seeking their mark and finding it immediately The pressure against Tony’s prostate was anything but gentle, the finger moving fast and pressing hard. Tony’s vision seemed to short out under the assault and he gasped. His whole body shook with the pleasure of it, the sensation that overwhelmed him, made his cock twitch and jerk in the open air in front of him.

Steve’s hand tightened in his hair. “Do not come,” he hissed.

Tony moaned, and debated whether to even try to follow the order. Almost in spite of himself, he called to mind the least sexy things he could think of. The Chitauri. His father. Reed Richards’ latest paper. But he couldn’t keep any of them in his mind under that probing pressure, the pleasure Clint’s fingers sent twisting through the pit of his stomach and arcing down his nerves to curl his fingers and his toes. “Can’t. I can’t, please—“ But Clint didn’t stop digging into him, forcing that gorgeous hot pulse through his body, and Tony gave up entirely and surrendered himself to sensation, to Clint’s awed murmur and the sharp pain of Steve’s hand in his hair. Clint gave one final flick and Tony was gone, gasping his pleasure as he shot into the open air.

Tony panted and gave another little moan as aftershocks rippled through his body, leaving him bonelessly draped over the railing and nearly insensible to what he must look like.

“He’s got no control over himself, does he?” Steve tsked, and Clint made a little noise of agreement.

Tony felt himself being hauled upright by the back of his shirt. He’d barely regained his balance when Steve gave him a gentle push towards the stairs. “You heard me. I don’t give a damn how rich you are—some messes you clean up yourself.”

Tony held up his hands behind his back to show off the cuffs still holding them together. “How do you expect me to—“ he started to object, before he realized the implication. “You’re kidding.”

Steve’s lips curled in an evil grin, but then he glanced over at Clint and seemed to relent. Rough hands grabbed at his shirt, forcing it over his head and down his arms until it bunched up where his wrists were bound. “You can use this.”

Tony opened his mouth to argue again, but when he met Steve’s eyes, the dark lust he found there immediately brushed away all his objections. He glanced to Clint, who just stared at the two of them, like they were acting out some drama that Clint never wanted to look away from. Tony’s eyes dropped to Clint’s groin, where evidence of his interest had once again made itself clear. His own aftershocks had barely passed, but already he ached again to be fucked, to be taken by both of them, and fast.

If this was what it took, he’d do it and call it a bargain.

He made his way down the stairs on legs still trembling from his orgasm. He bent awkwardly, trying to use his bound hands to wipe up the spots of his come from the railing and the steps where it had landed. He didn’t look up at Clint and Steve, but knew anyway that their eyes would be on him, watching him contort his naked body to wipe away all the evidence of his supposed transgression. His cheeks flushed with the shame of it, with the knowledge of the spectacle he was making of himself, and he’d barely finished before his cock gave a little twitch of interest, far sooner than it should have.

Steve finally grunted his satisfaction, and Tony made his way back up to the landing. “Someone had better the hell be ready to fuck me now, because…” he trailed off when he saw the hungry looks on both their faces, and knew he’d be getting want he wanted in short order.

Steve grabbed the filthy shirt where it bunched around his wrists and dragged it back up his arms and over his head. He could smell himself on the soiled fabric as Steve pulled it down over his face, and a sudden surge of lust twisted through his stomach.

And then Steve’s hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved him over the railing again. “Maybe you’ll do better this time,” he muttered, and then shifted to a more conversational tone. “Want him?”

Clint groaned his agreement, and Tony heard the soft snap of latex, and a moment later felt hands grab both his hips. Clint didn’t bother with any more prep, just pressed the head of his cock against Tony’s ass and began to push himself in.

The pressure was thicker than Clint’s fingers, stretching him open and pushing in deep. The first stroke was slow but inexorable—Clint’s cock seating itself just where he wanted it. Tony moaned and arched, spreading his legs a little to allow Clint to push in just a little deeper. “Fuck, yes. Please.”

Tony was almost disappointed when Clint began to draw back, still moving slowly. When he pushed back in at that same pace, a little whimper came unbidden from Tony’s throat.

“More. Fuck, Clint, please.”

Clint’s chuckle at that turned into a groan of pleasure, but he apparently felt perfectly satisfied to continue taking his time, because his strokes didn’t quicken.

A hand reached out to grasp Tony by the face and turn him to look at Steve, who had moved to sit on the stairs, close to Tony’s head. “Impatient,” he chided. “Guess we knew you had no self control about being taken. Figured you’d beg.” He glanced up at Clint. “You mind him begging?”

“I really do not.” Clint’s voice was taut, like it was stretched out over the length of his slow strokes, like he was just a hairs’ breadth from snapping and fucking into Tony fast and hard. 

Tony hoped to hell it would happen soon. Maybe he could help it along. “Fuck, please. Please give it to me. Need it, Clint, please.”

This time Steve chuckled. “You give a damn what he’s begging for?”

“Should I?” Clint asked, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that he might. Tony whimpered, his cock fully hard again and beginning to bead with precome, his whole body shaking with need.

“I wouldn’t. Use him however you feel like. Get what you want out of his ass.” He paused, as if a thought occurred to him. “He tight enough?”

“Oh yeah. Fuck, he feels good.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Steve’s hand moved from Tony’s face to the front of his shirt, pulling him down just a little. The tug was just enough to shift his balance, and his position suddenly felt far more precarious than it had a moment ago. He knew that Steve would never allow him to fall, but it still added a little frisson of adrenaline and he couldn’t help but moan. Steve spoke again, his voice quieter, like it was meant to carry only to Tony’s ears. “Look how you take it. Fuck, the way you beg for it—the way you need his cock. Can’t wait to take you myself, but watching you whine for him—? Goddamn.”

Tony’s whole body shuddered at Steve’s words, trying in vain to find some friction against his cock, or to buck back onto Clint’s to get the pressure he needs on his prostate. He couldn’t manage either, but the motion did apparently get to Clint, because suddenly he let go like a spring finally coiled too tight.

He began thrusting wildly, ramming into Tony so hard that the railing cut into Tony’s hips painfully on each stroke. Clint’s balls slapped against the back of Tony’s thighs, and Tony tried to widen his legs just a little bit further to get him in deeper still. 

A series of high pitched gasps fell from Tony’s throat, and suddenly he felt the fist bunched in the fabric of his shirt pull him to the side, so that his ear was just inches from Steve’s lips. “Just like that,” he hissed. “Take it, fuck. Look how you take it.”

Tony moaned and felt his balls draw up again—too soon, far too soon, but he couldn’t regret it as he felt his orgasm approaching through every nerve in his body, the pleasure rising until he hung on its edge, just a single touch away from letting it all go.

But when the touch came it was too hard, too firm, a hand clenched around the base of his cock, and Steve’s voice in his ear again. “You don’t come until I’m inside you.”

Tony couldn’t argue with that—not when the pleasure of Clint’s strokes still echoed inside him, building up, battering against the unyielding resistance of Steve’s fist. He let out a string of curses, all unintelligible even to him, and felt Clint stutter behind him, groaning his pleasure and collapsing against Tony’s back.

He tensed around Clint’s cock as he felt the gentle throb, milking every drop of pleasure from his orgasm. Tony maintained just enough presence of mind to want to make this absolutely as mind blowing as possible, the better to make sure that Clint would do it again. Because holy hell, he felt incredible already, and he wasn’t even close to done.

He tried to wait patiently for Clint to recover himself and move away, but it was all he could do not to beg Steve to take him already.

Steve seemed to see the need in his face, because he leaned closer. “You were so good for him. Gonna be good for me too?”

“Please. So good. Please.”

Steve chuckled, but didn’t shift his merciless grip on Tony’s cock as Clint slowly pulled out.

Tony didn’t try to move—just listened to Clint’s labored breathing as he recovered himself. “That was— fuck. You two are— let me just say, if you have any more kinky sex games in mind, feel free to invite me any time.”

Tony craned his head around to look at Clint, whose hands were already busy fastening his pants and belt. “Not done yet,” Tony objected.

Clint looked at Steve, and then back at him. “I think I’ll leave you to it,” he told them with a grin, and an instant later made a discrete exit, careful not to open the door wide enough to risk allowing the bar’s patrons to see inside.

Tony turned to face Steve again, but Steve had moved behind him already. Tony let a little whimper of anticipation fall from his lips, and he waited for the feel of Steve’s hands on his hips, Steve’s cock pressing into him. But instead he felt Steve’s hand on the back of his shirt, pulling him upright.

“Wha—“ he whined, before recovering himself enough to speak with slightly more dignity. “How are you not fucking me already?”

Steve didn’t answer. Instead he circled around and gave Tony a little shove, backing him up until he felt the wall hard behind him. Steve took another step and placed his hands up to either side of Tony, boxing him in. As Steve leaned forward, Tony could feel hot breath against his ear. “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.” He pressed his body against Tony’s, and Tony couldn’t keep his hips from thrusting his cock against Steve’s thigh. 

For an instant, all Tony could think of was the first time they’d done this, when he’d rutted against Steve until he came all over himself, every fiber of his self control destroyed by the lust in Steve’s eyes.

Steve seemed to remember it too. He moved one hand to rest on Tony’s throat, fingers pressing just enough to send a tight shiver of need all along Tony’s nerves. “You gonna come like this, or are you going to wait for me to fuck you.”

Tony whined and tried to still his hips, but couldn’t quite bring himself to relinquish the gorgeous friction against the head of his cock. “Fuck me. God, Steve, please fuck me.”

Steve’s hand stayed on Tony’s throat as the other dropped down to grasp his own cock. He pulled away far enough to give himself room for a few quick strokes, and Tony whined at the distance between them.

From somewhere Steve came up with the bottle of lube again, and Tony could only watch as he slicked himself. Steve leaned in again and spoke into Tony’s ear. “This going to be enough?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, please.”

But Steve didn’t move. “You’re so loose from him, you probably didn’t need any at all,” he whispered, every word sending little shocks of need down Tony’s neck and across his skin. “You know how it felt, watching him fuck you?”

Tony made a desperate little noise that was neither a yes nor a no. 

Steve continued anyway. “Felt so good. Watching you take it for him. Watching you beg. Watching you squirm. Fuck you look good when you squirm.” He chuckled a little at that.

Tony whined low in his throat, and he struggled a little, pressing against Steve in a silent plea for more.

Steve shifted back, and for a moment just looked Tony up and down with lust-dark eyes that claimed him, made him feel vulnerable and wanted and used all at once. 

When Steve finally moved it was fast. Tony barely registered what he was doing before he had a hand around each of Tony’s thighs, pulling them up to either side of Steve’s hips while his cock bobbed between the cheeks of Tony’s ass.

Tony gasped in a breath. “Yes. Yes, God yes. Please.”

Steve pressed closer, letting his cock rub gently at Tony’s entrance. The feel of him there, poised to shove in, was almost more than Tony could take, and he struggled, trying to shift himself down and forward, to impale himself on Steve’s cock. But with his legs in the air and his back shoved against the wall, he couldn’t get the slightest leverage. Instead he drew his legs up, shifting his heels to press against Steve’s backside, urging him on.

With one long groan, Steve pushed in. “Still tight. Goddamn I love your ass. Always,” he drew back and punctuated that with a sharp thrust, “so,” another thrust, “good.” On that last, he buried himself to the hilt in Tony’s body, and Tony let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes, needing to focus absolutely all of his attention on the feel of Steve deep inside him, and his strong arms holding him up.

Tony savored the position for an instant, but quickly found himself overwhelmed by the need for more. He dug in with his heels again, and an actual growl formed in Steve’s throat. An instant later he was thrusting hard and fast, and Tony could concentrate on nothing but the raw, fierce pleasure of it.

Steve pounded into him with rough strokes, panting into Tony’s ear and occasionally managing to form words. They were curses, mostly, and affirmations, and Tony’s name more than once. But as Steve continued, taking him thoroughly, utterly, his moans resolved into a litany of one word.

The sensations overwhelmed Tony, crashing through him, and he hung on the verge of his orgasm already when his mind sorted out what Steve was saying, over and over again.

“Mine.”

The word dug into him, twisting down into his gut, over his balls, his cock, his ass where they were joined and Steve’s thrusts continued to drive up into him. “Yes,” Tony breathed. “Yes, yes, fuck, Steve, yes—“ he shivered, shuddered, jerked as orgasm ripped through him. He felt more than heard Steve’s groan as he thrust in deep one last time and held there.

Steve’s forehead dropped to Tony’s shoulder, but he made no move to shift position or to pull away as they both gasped through sharp little aftershocks.

It was several minutes before the burning stretch in Tony’s thighs and the awkward position of his back made themselves known. “You, uh, planning on letting me go any time soon?”

Steve chuckled and let go of one of Tony’s legs, and then the other, and reached around to release the handcuffs from Tony’s wrists. He grabbed the back of Tony’s head and pulled him in for a bruising kiss, hard and harsh and perfect. When they pulled away, Steve grinned, and only then did he answer Tony’s question.

“No.”


End file.
